Broken Worlds Chronicles (Working Title)

Reality cracked, a cosmic system slapped a bandage on it, and somehow I’m the poor idiot holding the patch in place. Turns out reality isn’t as solid as we all thought. Most Earths never find that out. They spin along just fine, people arguing about sports scores and taxes and what color the sky is supposed to be that day. Meanwhile the universe is quietly holding itself together with duct tape and crossed fingers. Every once in a while though, something slips. A crack forms. A fracture in the wall between realities. Normally that’s the end of the story for whatever world gets caught in it. But sometimes that world has a problem. A statistical anomaly. Someone who exists in that version of Earth and only that version. When the fracture opens, those unlucky souls get drafted whether they like it or not. No warning. No training. No polite little handbook explaining the job. One moment you’re living your life. The next a cosmic system is calmly informing you that congratulations, you’re now the bandage holding a piece of existence together. Most people don’t last long. Some fractures are small. Patch the hole, keep the dimensional junk from drifting through, maybe survive long enough to learn the ropes. Others are disasters waiting to happen. Beyond every tear in reality there’s something on the other side. Broken landscapes, alien worlds, things that slipped through other catastrophes and never went home. And if the wrong thing comes through, the system doesn’t argue. It cuts the whole reality loose. Every Earth connected to it. Gone. The lucky ones get a place to regroup. A stitched-together world called Earth Prime, where the survivors of these fractures can meet, trade information, and pretend they’re not all standing one bad day away from oblivion. Because eventually every bulwark fails. And when it does, an entire world goes with it.